


Have I Been in the Wars?

by jujitsuelf



Category: The Losers (2010), The Losers (Comic), The Losers - All Media Types
Genre: Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-24
Updated: 2013-09-24
Packaged: 2017-12-27 12:56:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/979170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jujitsuelf/pseuds/jujitsuelf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clay woke up with a pounding headache and a very sore, dry throat. The cloying smell of antiseptic burned inside his nose. Hospital?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Have I Been in the Wars?

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended
> 
> ****
> 
> unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine

Clay woke up with a pounding headache and a very sore, dry throat. The cloying smell of antiseptic burned inside his nose. Hospital? He realized he was lying in a crisp white bed. A heart monitor beeped beside him. Hospital. Why was he in hospital? More to the point, which hospital was he in?

Raising his head a little sent pain spiking through his skull. Shit. Trying to move very gently, he looked down at his sheet-covered body. His hands were resting on top of the white cotton, both of them were bandaged. His fingers stuck out of the wrappings like so many sausages. Clay concentrated but not one of them moved when he told them to. Crap. What the hell had he been doing to end up in this state?

He blinked. Um. What had he been doing prior to waking up in hospital? Try as he might, he couldn’t remember. Panic stirred at the back of his mind. Did he know his own name? Yes, Franklin Clay. For some reason he preceded it with ‘Lieutenant Colonel’. Army? Swiveling his eyes he saw a set of dog tags lying on the cabinet beside his bed. Army, then. Cool. Still didn’t fill in the rapidly growing blanks.

He was army, he was in hospital. Fine, whatever injuries he had were probably related to the job. But it was worrying that he couldn’t remember what he’d done to wind up there.

The door opened and a very large man came in. He was in uniform but there was a friendly look on his face. His scarily scarred face. Clay felt sweat prickle at the back of his neck. Should he know the guy? Because his brain was still frighteningly blank.

“Hey,” the man said. “How’re you feeling?”

“Okay,” Clay replied warily.

The guy looked faintly amused. “Did you forget who I am again?”

“What?” Clay scoffed and forced a smile. “No, of course not.” He scrabbled desperately for a name. The man clearly knew him, the question was, where from?

For some reason Clay’s hindbrain was screaming at him, ‘Don’t lose face in front of the men! Don’t show weakness of any kind!’ If only he knew what the heck that meant, he’d be onto a winner.

The big guy sat down and unbuttoned his uniform jacket. “You are such a pansy-ass when it comes to head trauma.”

“Am not,” Clay said automatically.

“Are too.” That was definitely a superior smirk on the guy’s face.

Clay hoped he was a higher rank than the man, because that smirk so deserved some kind of repercussions.

“Okay, you’re not a pansy-ass when it comes to head trauma, you’re just a little forgetful as regards members of your team and their names.” The smirk was even bigger now. “I’m Roque, your second in command.”

“I knew that,” Clay muttered.

“Sure you did,” Roque grinned.

At least he knew the man’s name now. Not that it really meant much, although it did evoke vague memories of gunfire and explosions and very ill-advised bar crawls in Manila.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to concentrate on the present. _Team_ , Roque had said _team_. If he was here in hospital, where was his team? Something nagged at him to find out how they were, he had to know, team was important. Team was family.

“Um,” Clay croaked, and wished his hands were up to reaching for a drink. “How’re the, um, the guys?”

“They’re fine,” Roque leaned back in his chair and propped one foot up on the bed. “Jensen and Cougar got away with cuts and bruises, Pooch got a few burns but they’re not serious. You’re the dumb fucker who took the brunt of the blast. And judging by the fact you didn’t ask about anyone by name, I’m guessing you got hit on the head pretty hard. You have no idea who Jensen, Cougar and Pooch are, do you?”

Clay pursed his lips and tried to decide what to say. Did he admit that he was a little sketchy on some details or brazen it out and hope everything came back with a rush as he’d seen in movies?

“What did we blow up?” he asked instead, stalling for time.

Roque chuckled. “Drug operation in Colombia.”

Clay winced as memories of an eyeball-searing explosion thumped into his brain with all the finesse of a freight train. “Ow.” He remembered watching Cougar and Jensen run toward some thick jungle and Pooch trying to pull him along, yelling at him to move faster.

“You okay?”

Roque didn’t sound overly concerned but something stirred in Clay’s mind. _He sounds least worried when he’s terrified. Roque’s a study in contrasts._

“Yeah,” Clay muttered, trying to wiggle further up the bed and get into more of a sitting position rather than laying there like an invalid. “Just remembering stuff.” He frowned. “You had the detonators.”

“Duh. I am in charge of demolitions and blowing shit up. Who else would’ve had ‘em?”

Roque stole a grape from the bunch on Clay’s bedside cabinet. How hadn’t he noticed they were there until now?

More memories slammed into Clay’s brain. It felt well and truly bruised, who would’ve imagined memories could hurt like a sledgehammer to the back of the skull?

“I was pretty close to the warehouse when it blew. That’s why my hands hurt like hell. Got ‘em burned.”

“Oh, you’re back with us, are you?” Roque grinned again. “Damn. If it’d been permanent amnesia, I might’ve gotten a promotion.”

Clay snorted, “You’d have had a promotion months ago if you’d accept the ones the brass keep trying to give you.”

“Remember that, too, do you?”

“Yeah.” Clay wished he could move his hands enough to rub his eyes. In true Hollywood fashion everything was rushing back, the blanks were filling in and names were no longer a problem.

The door banged open again and Jensen, Cougar and Pooch clattered in.

“Hey, how’s the human fireball formally known as Franklin Clay?” Jensen grinned.

“Hi, Boss,” Cougar nodded quietly.

Pooch smiled and made for the bunch of grapes, stealing a handful. “How’re you feeling, Clay?”

“He’s fine,” Roque said before Clay had a chance. “Had amnesia again, but it’s passed now.”

“Oh, head trauma always does that to him, doesn’t it?” Jensen said, looking at Clay sympathetically.

“Must be his age,” Pooch muttered around a mouthful of grapes. “Getting old, his memories are probably going anyway, an extra bump on the head and they vanish.”

“Slippery slope, Boss,” Cougar shook his head sadly. “Gotta be more careful at your age.”

“Out!” Clay yelled, then wished he hadn’t. “Out,” he said more quietly but with as much vehemence. “All of you. Let’s see how funny you think it is when you next wake up in hospital with no idea how you got there.”

Jensen laughed. “Ain’t never gonna happen, Clay. I’ll just do a Memento and tattoo things on my ass so I don’t forget them.”

“Like you’d ever forget us,” Pooch punched Jake’s shoulder cheerfully.

Clay noticed the quick glance Jensen threw in Cougar’s direction. No, those two would never forget each other, however many times they were hit on the head.

Feeling suddenly more peaceful, Clay settled back on his pillows. “Okay, old man needs to sleep. Out, all of you. Send me a pretty nurse with some of the good drugs and don’t bother me again for a while.”

“You heard the man,” Roque stood and ushered the other three toward the door. “See you later, Clay.”

The door closed behind them and the room fell silent save for the beeping of the heart monitor. Clay smiled to himself. It was comforting to know that even when he didn’t know who his team were, he was still capable of wanting to know they were okay.

Crazy his guys might be, but they were definitely unforgettable.

 


End file.
